


Grocery List

by supersoakerx



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Rough Sex, spit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: Sometimes, even getting groceries is a chore. But Daddy's here to help, even if you're a bit of a brat about it.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	Grocery List

**Author's Note:**

> This is first-draft rough, and I'm sorry for that. I had a shitty morning and I had to get this outta my head.

“C’m’ere, darlin,” Clyde drawls from the couch, closing his book. “’s all alright, yer home now, sugar plum.”

Not a moment ago you’d barged into Clyde’s living room with your hands full of heavy shopping bags, uproariously angry, and spat out cuss words about people and idiots and no one can drive and _rude!_

Even now, you rant on uninterrupted in the kitchen, seemingly not even hearing him.

Clyde didn’t mind when you got all unladylike like this. Admittedly, it impressed him a little, all the creative ways you could work ‘fuck’ into a sentence. It tickled him, even. “Won’t ya come tell ol’ sugar bear what’s wrong, darlin?”

“Oh!” you scoff, slamming the fridge door closed and storming back into the living room. “What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what the fuck is wrong! Not one bastard wearing a mask, this woman stood so close to me to get to the God damned eggs we could’ve been wearing the same sweater, and no one fucking _indicates_ anymore! I’ve fucking had it with—”

But Clyde knows: you’re not really _that_ mad. Just irritated. Frustrated. Tired of this silly world and the silly ways it works sometimes.

“—and then—oh, my God, you’re not gonna fuckin’ believe this— _then_ I said, ‘you fuck—,”

You need just a minute to get some of the angry out, and Clyde needs to find that _hook_ that’ll get you to fall all over him, ‘n’ wear yerself out some other way.

“—and I mean, _Jesus_ , would it have _killed_ him to say fucking a ‘thank you’!?” You huff, and puff, your rage-fuelled rant coming to an abrupt stop. You stare at Clyde, your face incredulous after all you’ve just had to deal with—and just to get food in the house!

There’s silence, the only sound your panting breaths and thudding pulse in your ears.

Clyde nods slowly in acknowledgement, before setting his book down gently on the coffee table. He settles back into his comfy spot, one arm resting along the top of the cushions and with his flesh hand, patting his thigh. “Come give Daddy some sugar, sugar.”

You’re torn. You’re angry, and you _know_ Clyde’ll help you unwind… but you kinda like simmering like this, too—blood pounding through every vein, your skin all hot and tingly.

You don’t make a move. “You want a kiss, Daddy?”

“Yessum, sugar plum, I sorely do.” Three pats to his strong thigh. “Come t’ Daddy, darlin.”

You itch to go to him, but no way are you gonna give in so soon. You pout and look away, toying with the hem of your sweater. “No. I’m grumpy.”

Clyde tuts. “Sugar…” It’s a caution. It’s a warning.

You huff. “It’s too hot in here!” You pull off your top layer, and toss it onto the carpeted floor.

Clyde subtly tilts his head, considering you and the borderline tantrum you’re putting on. He knows you’re playing a game, now. He just don’t know which one.

You toe out of your ankle boots. “Aren’t you just—so— _hot_ , Daddy?” You kick the shoes away and tug off your socks, tossing them away too.

Clyde eyes you, standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and that mouth-watering pair of jeans you have. He stirs. “What are ya doin’ there, darlin, makin’ a big ol’ mess on our floor?”

“I told you, Daddy,” you say, gripping the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m too hot.” You yank it off, and throw it down. “Oops,” you feign, “more _mess_.”

Clyde leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs with a sigh. You, denim-clad, with only that hot pink lacy bra on top—he had to hide what the sight was doing to him. “Don’t rile your Daddy up like this, sugar.”

“No?”

“No. Now c’m’ere, let Daddy talk to ya.”

“But I think you like it when your lil sugar plum riles you up like this, _Daddy_.” You lean forward and push your breasts together, showing off your cleavage.

“God, dang it,” Clyde jumps up, and you stand back up too, but slowly. The bulge in his camo shorts is glaringly obvious.

“Oh no!” you gasp, “what’s wrong, Daddy?” You make a show of biting your lip, feigning concern.

He takes a step towards you, and you take one back, a grin teasing one corner of your mouth.

Clyde tilts his head again, his eyes narrowing. He twists his pink lips in a way that warns you _not_ to do whatever nonsense you’re planning.

“If my Daddy wants me,” you murmur huskily, “he’s gonna have to come _get_ me.”

Clyde takes a deep breath in, his chest visibly rising. “You’re bad to me, sugar plum,” he grounds out.

“Then come punish me, Daddy,” you say simply, sweetly.

That does it for Clyde. Poor sugar bear’s had enough.

He lunges for you with a deep growl, and you race for the kitchen. But Clyde’s long strides are faster than yours and he catches up easily, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tugging you to his front with a satisfied grunt.

You yelp with glee as Clyde almost lifts you from the ground. He whirls you both around until you’re bent over the kitchen counter, his erection pressing into your backside.

You’re panting, adrenalin firing. “Whatcha gonna do with me now that you caught me, Daddy?”

Clyde huffs, pulling you up to lean against his front and groping your firming breasts through your bra. His voice is a deep, breathy murmur, puffing the hair near your ear. “Oh, sugar. You made Daddy _mad_.”

You gasp, feigning shock. “Me? Lil ol’ me? Daddy, what’d I do?”

Clyde tweaks a stiffening nipple, and you gasp for real.

“ _You_ , little miss,” Clyde tugs down your cups, exposing your breasts, “ya just storm on in here,” he rolls and pinches both your nipples, “yellin’ and screamin’ and bangin’ this and that ‘round e’rywhere,” he grinds his pelvis against your ass, “and when Daddy wants to help ya, wants to help his sweet lil sugar plum feel better—what’s she do, huh? What’d you do, sugar?”

You arch your back, pushing your breasts into his large, hot hand. “I didn’t l-listen to you, Daddy.”

“Naw, you didn’t—‘n’ what else?” He gropes and squeezes the swell of your breasts, gliding over your peaks with his fingertips.

“I was mmean to you, D-Daddy.”

“An’?” Clyde tugs at the button on your jeans roughly. It pops open, and he shoves his hand inside.

“And I teased y—oh! Daddy,” you keen, arching into Clyde’s big broad chest again as he slips his thick fingers down your folds.

Clyde groans into your ear. “Hnnmhdarlin, yer so slippery already.” With two warm, fat fingers he rubs rings into your clit, and you moan for him. “Jus’ gushin’ outta ya. I’n’t, sugar?”

You moan and sigh incoherently, rocking your hips in rhythm with Clyde’s circles and rocking your ass against his crotch.

“’s ‘at ma sugar plum all outta words?” Clyde croons, “well I’ll be damned—,”

“Daddy,” you gasp, barely a whisper.

“—ya don’t got no more cheek to give me?”

“Nnohh Daddy.” It’s wrenched from your throat.

“Ya think ya get yer Daddy’s cock now, don’tcha, sugar?”

Your pussy’s drooling onto your panties, you can feel it. You squeeze your eyes shut and whine, “oh _please_ , Daddy—please?”

Clyde groans, ripping his hand from between your legs and shoving the waist of your jeans and underwear down. You help him, and it’s messy and clumsy and rushed and when you’ve just barely kicked out of them, Clyde manhandles you to face him and hoists you up onto the countertop—with a thud that rattles the dishes in the drying rack.

He’s on you immediately, pressed close to your body as your legs wrap around his him. “You dun even said ‘sorry’ t’ me, sugar,” Clyde murmurs into your ear, slipping two fat semi-slick fingers into your dripping core.

“Daddy!” you gasp and choke on the word, “I’m sohh, oh I’m so soerhh.”

Clyde pumps his fingers briskly. This isn’t to pleasure you. This is just to ready you, to make enough space inside you for his cock that he doesn’t do serious damage.

“I di'n’t hear ‘at, darlin,” Clyde grunts, his erection straining uncomfortably, “tell Daddy again, tell me yer sorry.” He rams his thick fingers deep into you, all the way down to the knuckle, and holds them there. “Tell me, sugar.”

You can finally catch your breath. Through gasps and whimpers, you get out, “I’m—I’m sorry—Daddy.”

“Yeah? Y’are?”

“Yes, Daddy. I am, Daddy. I _swear_.” You clench your pussy on his fingers.

“Mm, that was pretty convincin’, darlin,” Clyde drawls into your ear. “Wh’on’t ya go’n get Daddy’s cock nice and wet ‘n’ I’ll see if ya mean that.”

You reach around his extended arm, with his fingers buried in your pussy. You make quick work of shoving aside his shorts and boxers and hauling his hot, hard, heavy cock free.

Clyde sighs, the sheer relief of it. “Show me, darlin,” he murmurs. “Show Daddy yer sorry.”

You cradle his cock in one palm, and locking eyes with him, spit into your other.

Clyde inhales sharply.

You grip his thick, fat cock in your slippery palm, and drag your fist along the length of it.

Clyde’s exhale is shaky, chopped up.

You spit into your other hand, your as-yet dry palm, and do the exact same: now coating his cock in slick spit with both hands.

At this, Clyde can no longer resist. He rolls his head back and groans, involuntarily stroking your walls again but now, in time with the pass of your fists.

“Mmmhyeah,” Clyde groans, “y’ _are_ sorry, ain’t ya, sugar?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Think y-uhh, uhhlmost made up for bein’—buh—bad t’ Daddy, darlin.”

“Yeah, Daddy? Ammmh I your good girl again?” You spit into one of your palms, adding more saliva to your strokes.

Clyde groans and tips his head forward, looking deep into your eyes. “Oh, sugar plum. You let yer big Daddy bust his load inside yer lil pussy ‘n’ we’ll find out.”

Your walls clench on his thick digits, and Clyde grunts, shuffling closer.

“Right here, Daddy?” You spit again, and keep on slickin’ him up.

“Right here, sugar.”

“ _Oh_ , Daddy. Yes,” you sigh, and before you can think another coherent thought Clyde pulls his fingers from your pussy and grips his cock, lines it up and plunges in.

“Fuck!” you yelp. He’s only halfway inside you, but already the stretch stings.

“Uhgh,” Clyde grunts, “fuck, lemme in, sugar.”

You try to relax, try to clench and release and open up for him, at the same time as Clyde starts to fuck into you.

“Uhh, yeahh,” he groans, “let Daddy in, darlin. Lemme get all the way in.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” you moan, the friction on a knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. It tingles in your nerves, all the way to the stiff tips of your breasts. “Oh, God,” your fingers find your clit, and the jolt of pure pleasure sends electricity arcing up your spine.

Clyde groans. “Has Daddy got a cock too big for this lil hole? Hm? Ma sugar plum needs t’ rub her clit to fit me in, huh?”

“Ohh, Daddy,” you groan, your fingertips rubbing over your stiffening clit, “you’re s-so, _big_.”

In a sudden, quick thrust Clyde’s balls deep inside you, burying his thick cock in your hot, pulsing pussy with a guttural growl.

“Fuck!” you cry out again, the mingling sensations of stinging pain and spooling pleasure feeling just decadently, irrationally good.

“Can feel every ffuhh, every wall of ya like this, sugar,” Clyde grunts, bucking his hips with reckless abandon. “Ya like when Daddy fucks ya with his bbig cock.”

“ _MmmhDaddysomuch_ ,” you ramble, slurring words as your pleasure mounts. At this angle, all of him feels impossibly longer and thicker than you’re used to, and your clit feels so _swollen_.

Clyde wraps his arms around your back, and presses his flesh hand on your lumbar to bring you closer to him, subtly shifting the angle of his deep thrusts, making them even longer.

“Sshhiitt,” you moan, high and needy, as hot, wet tears of elation spring into your eyes. Your keen breaks off in a gasp, followed by, “ _Daddy_!”

“Uohh, yeahh, sugar,” Clyde grunts in your ear, deep and hot and heavy breaths, like a caveman. “Jus’ like that, _uhhgh_ , jus’ keep yer lil pussy jus’ like that. That’s good— _ohh_ that’s good.”

“Shit, shit,” you pant breathlessly, the force of Clyde’s thrusts quaking your whole body, making all sorts of stuff clink and rattle on the counter.

Your fingers fly over your clit, your orgasm cresting and rising in your core.

Clyde feels your pussy walls seize his cock. “Ohh, yeah, there’s a _good girl_. Squeeze Daddy, sugar. Squeeze ma cock, nice ‘n’, nice ‘n’, _tiihhght_.”

You scream as you cum, bright white light behind your eyelids, your pussy clenching and clamping and convulsing all over Clyde’s dick and slicking his length with a silky, slippery gush of cum.

“ _Fuck_. Ohf-fuck, darlin.” Clyde can’t hold on much longer. “Gonna fill ya full, sugar, til, _mmmh_ , drips outta you.”

“Yeah, Daddy?” you pant, in a daze, “you got all that cum waiting for me in those big balls?

“Fuck!” Clyde snaps, driving into you to the hilt. “Ohh, _God_ ,” he bellows, ropes of cum pouring out of his twitching cock. “Oh-h—darlin—yeahh,” he groans, with shallow bucks of his hips to draw it out, make it longer, make it last. “Ahf-fuck,” he pants with aftershocks, those sudden, arrhythmic contractions that spurt even more hot, thick cum deep into your pussy.

When he’s finally, finally, done—Clyde can barely hold himself up anymore. He pants into the crook of your neck, spent, and incoherent because of it.

Soon, you both float down to the surface of the Earth again.

You feel something, crumpled up under your palm. “Oh, shit, I forgot,” you grumble, holding up the scribbled-on paper that served as your grocery list. “I couldn’t even get everything on our list!”

Clyde’s glassy, blissed out eyes focus, and then narrow. He looks from you, to the paper, back to you. “D’ya mean that, sugar, or are ya just tryin’ to rile up yer big Daddy again?”

“Both?” you grin.

Clyde’s mouth breaks into a huge, goofy smile. He presses his lips to yours, for the first time since you got home, and hums.


End file.
